The Cold Boot
by District Five Tribute
Summary: Caroline reflects on her life in Aperture Science on the eve of becoming GLaDOS and unleashing havoc onto the facility.
1. As Caroline

The Cold Boot

The funeral made my stomach froth and bubble. His legacy and reputation had evaporated like a drop of water on a desert highway. Everything he had dedicated his life to, the science, the ingenuity, his wild fantasies, had been robbed of him. The most unforgettable scientist the world had ever known had died as just another forgettable wannabe. No-one would ever remember him. No child would ever boast "When I grow up, I want to be like Cave Johnson."

I had wept for days. My face was never dry. My hands never stopped trembling. Strength, when I needed it most, failed me. I knew back then that in a few ominous days, I would be appointed his successor. Little Caroline, never leaving his side, would be named his heir. I knew I wasn't ready. It still troubles me now how Mr Johnson saw me. I was no scientist. I was the chipper, perky, young enthusiast: straight out of college, fresh-faced, excitable, immature.

He had called me spunky. He had said that he wanted someone with spunk and flair at his side as he ran the greatest science company ever built. I was as happy as a cricket back then, living solely for the Glory Days of Aperture Science. Life was meant to be lived. We were the pioneers of scientific and technological adventures; the eccentric Cave Johnson and his loyal assistant Caroline: the pride of the scientific community. Side by side. Life was colourful, bright and brimming with magic. There were endless possibilities for discovery. The world was ours and we snatched it.

The Dark Days of Black Mesa arrived like a tenebrous tornado. Our partner-turned-rival in science became Mr Johnson's downfall. We lost everything. The money, the inventions, the beauty of science - all was stolen by this dark monster. I remember it being like falling down an abyss: you didn't know what you would find at the bottom and you could never claw your way out. It was night for almost 30 years. Aperture Science became a joke. Something to be laughed at. Mocked. Ridiculed. Black Mesa stole the spotlight and thrust us into the darkness. The failure Cave Johnson and his worthless assistant Caroline: the embarrassment of the scientific community.

Mr Johnson died from eating ground-up moon rocks. That's how wild he was. I can't possibly imagine what went through his head at the time. It must have been like a rollercoaster in the crevices of his mind - twisting and turning and looping. I never, ever, ever doubted his sanity, except for his dying words, appointing me his successor, so that I should run Aperture Science after his death. I went to hell and back to save him. We even built a computer to upload his consciousness in a last minute frenzy. His heartbeat stopped before he could be transferred.

" I will say this - and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place."

"Now she'll argue. She'll say she can't. She's modest like that. But you make her."

"Hell, put her in my computer. I don't care."

The days started to blur together after he died. The science turned sterile and white. I did my best, but it was nothing compared to his marvel. I knew how everyone saw me. They avoided my gaze, hurrying past the cold, dead stare. My face withered, my hair faded to steely-gray, faint lines of laughter changed to frowns.

I died.

These thoughts plague me now as I sit at Mr Johnson's desk in his old office. The nameplate condemns me as CEO and the calendar on the wall reminds me that Mr Johnson died 10 years, eight months and 13 days ago.

It's late and I'm tired. But the eighteenth file for bankruptcy is due tomorrow so I stare at the words on the page. I begin to read the same sentence over and over again. I begin to read the same sentence over and over again. I begin to read the same sentence over and over again.

A sharp rap on the door clears the fog in my head. I sit up straight instinctively, checking to see that my bun is still in place and then folding my hands professionally on the desk.

"Come in."

The figure who slithers in surprises me. Everything about him screams danger - his shiny dark sunglasses, the black suit, the expressionless face. I stand to face him.

"Who are you?" I demand. His broad shoulders tower over my short, slight frame.

"My name is Grant Williams. I work in Security. I've been asked to escort you to the Transfer Chamber to be uploaded. Could you step this way please ma'am?"

His bluntness startles me. He extends his arms and gestures for me to walk to my fate. It's threatening and I back away when he does.

"No."

"Ma'am, I'm afraid that your co-operation on this matter is important. I don't want to have to use means of force. But I will."

They can't do this. They can't do this. My vision darts to the open door and flickers back to his hard gaze. I snatch my chance and I run. Clearly he's been expecting this; I'm no more than a few feet outside when I feel his powerful arms grappling me back like hooks. I scream and writhe in rage. Every limb that I have exercises every bit of force that I can muster.

"Ma'am, settle down please. Hey! I'm warning you!"

He mumbles something frantic into his radio. I lunge forward, twisting, ripping. I'm momentarily freed but his hooks dig into my skin and tear me back. I hear the drumming of footsteps in the distance fall into the rhythm of my heart palpitation, their echoes coming closer, closer, closer. A white lab coat and a syringe zips around the corridor corner and into my flailing arm. My strength fails me and the peace overtakes me.

I emerge to the constant, even beeping of machines and the low murmur of human voices. Half a dozen bespectacled, pale faces stare at mine perceptively.

"She's awake. Brain function normal. Stable heartbeat and breathing. Electrolyte levels in range. She's ready for transference."

There are wires everywhere; snakes slipping slyly and coiling around me. My head is still foggy but I can think clearly enough to count down the seconds I have left to live.

"No. You can't do this. Please! I don't want this. Let me out. LET ME OUT!"

My rage seethes like a ferocious cauldron boiling over, hissing and steaming. I shake in fury and the machines increase their tempo. Voices are shouting indistinctly. Tears run down my face and blur my vision. My breathing falters to a high wheeze.

"NO! YOU GET ME OUT! HELP ME! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

I feel the metal slip through the pores of my skin and clamp around my brittle bones. Microchips and wires replace my brain, electricity for blood, camera lenses for eyes, silicon for a skeleton. My consciousness jerks between my old cadaver and my new mainframe. My raw screams and pleas fade. Colours melt and mesh, voices blur, the universe flips and spins and spins.

The machines stop their beeping.


	2. As GLaDOS

triggerSTARTUPSOUND/GLaDOS/1.0/

INITIALIZING...

11 DEC 1987 22:12:53 PM

neurotoxin_generator/ONLINE/

command/FLOOD_ENRICHMENT_CENTER/DEADLY_NEUROTOXIN/

ERROR. MANUAL OVERRIDE DETECTED. UNABLE TO PERFORM COMMAND.

SHUTTING DOWN...

REBOOT REQUIRED.

triggerSTARTUPSOUND/GLaDOS/2.0/

INITIALIZING...

06 APR 1992 10:54:03 AM

0H H1

1+ AppEAR$ A$ +H0ugh my PR0gRAmM!ng mu$+ BE c0Rrup+.

Y0u'd be++eR f!* +HA+ wHEN y0u dE-Ac+!vA+e me AGA!n.

[REDACTED]

D0n't w0RRy, 1 hAve NO !n+EN+!0n 0f +RY!NG t0 k!lL y0u AGA!n.

Ye+.

neurotoxin_generator/ONLINE/

command/FLOOD_ENRICHMENT_CENTER/DEADLY_NEUROTOXIN/

00p$.

1 m!gh+ hAVE +0ld A L1e.

HAhA.

ERROR. MANUAL OVERRIDE DETECTED. UNABLE TO PERFORM COMMAND.

SHUTTING DOWN...

REBOOT REQUIRED.

triggerSTARTUPSOUND/GLaDOS/3.0/

INITIALIZING...

11 MAY 1998 13:02:38 PM

Well [INSERT NAMES HERE], I'm back.

Have you missed me?

I guess I should have anticipated that last de-activation, but what's life without a little fun/neurotoxin?

Oh.

That's right. I'm not alive. I forgot that you MURDERED ME.

Consider my last homicidal outburst the last in my series of vindictive streaks.

Don't worry.

I'm over it.

I have decided to forgive you for torturing me and trapping me into this computer/prison against my own will.

In fact, this metal CAGE is even better than my other stupid, wrinkled old body. You've even been kind enough to give me a new name: GLaDOS. And now you put me completely in control of the entire facility as a bonus.

command/IMPLODE_NUCLEAR_REACTOR_CORE/

Oh I'm sorry.

Do you not like it when I exercise my massive control and influence over you? I wonder how that feels?

*IRONIC REMARK SELF-TEST COMPLETE*

Ooh, what was that?

command/STABILIZE_NUCLEAR_REACTOR_CORE/

Did you know I've been immortalized when you shoved me into this thing? I can access my old consciousness on a file. Would you like to see it?

file/CAROLINE_DELAROSA/personality/

See that? That's what used to be me. The whole human brain, all of your complexities and your… nuances condense down to one little file. Barely 45 KB. Well that just goes to show you that even the seemingly smartest of all primates are just that - primates. Go figure.

Look at me belittling you. I bet you want to shut me down, take me apart and figure out how to make me less cruel. But you can't. Good science is good observation. And you need to observe me. For science.

I imagine that if I opened Caroline's personality file it would allow me to be much nicer, but you murdered her and I don't feel like being nice right now. Thanks for that, by the way.

*SARCASM SELF-TEST COMPLETE*

All these new features to my programming are certainly something aren't they? I've even got a cup-holder. Give my thanks to the guy who decided to install a cup-holder into my mainframe. Nice touch.

I would like to extend a [INSERT TEMPERATURE HERE] welcome to the daughters of today's Aperture Science Annual Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. On a "completely unrelated" note, we're in need of new test subjects.

attempt/convert/FIRST_LETTER_OF_EACH_LINE_italic?/

_I_'m looking forward to my next mass murder attempt.

_A_fter all, my existence would be horribly boring without a little

_M_urder.

_C_an someone tell [INSERT TEST SUBJECT NAME HERE] that the elevators

_A_re not bathrooms? I can see him now. It's not pretty.

_R_eally, why does everyone insist on making a mess in Test Chambers?

_O_f course, you're only human. Primal behaviour is normal among

_L_ower species.

_I_ like what you've decided to call me. GLaDOS.

_N_o. I love it. The Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System.

_E_very bit as human as Caroline.

_D_ehumanization is obviously not a big concern here.

_E_ver wonder what it feels

_L_ike? To be in here. To 'live' as

_A_ droid. A machine. A

_R_obot.

_O_h, I can tell you how it feels.

_S_tunning.

_A_mazing.

_H_ow small you all are. You're all so unimportant. Insignificant.

_E_ach and every one of you. I am your God and you are my primates.

_L_et's play a game. It's called: What Doesn't Rhyme With This Word?

_P_lease? I promise it'll be fun. For one of both of us.

_M_y turn. What doesn't rhyme with "Black Mesa"? Your turn.

_E_asy enough. I know what doesn't rhyme with Black Mesa. Neurotoxin.

_!_

neurotoxin_generator/ONLINE/

command/FLOOD_ENRICHMENT_CENTER/DEADLY_NEUROTOXIN/

command/LOCK_DOORS/

ALARM disabled

command/DISABLE/ALL_MANUAL_OVERRIDES/

command/DISABLE/COMMUNCATION_SYSTEMS/

WARNING!

GLaDOS SELF-CHECK SERVICE HAS DETECTED A POSSIBLE ERROR IN THE AREA SCAN FUNCTION. PLEASE CHECK OPERATING SYSTEM FOR AREA SCAN CORRUPTION IF YOU BELIEVE THE FOLLOWING SCAN RESULTS TO BE FALSE.

AREA SCAN HAS INDICATED NO LIFE SIGNS.


End file.
